


Rattle

by Blue_Robin



Series: The Music Made Me Do It [2]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 22:06:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20181469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Robin/pseuds/Blue_Robin
Summary: Based on the song "Rattle" by Penny and SparrowI'm no good at waiting,On any kind of talk, at all, from you to me each day.And I'm sorry; I'm so sorry:I never can quite seem to pull my weight.I don't wanna rattle,And I've got no plans to let myself get tossed away.But this muscle, all this muscle,Could never lift a thing without you anyway.You have me, you have me, you have me only.When I keep, when I keep, when I keep listening.You wanna come and stay here,And depending on the day, I wanna let you in.But I know me, I know me,I'm scared I'll just wake up and want you gone again.I'm not proud, I'm not proud, I'm not proud of me.So how could you, how could you, how could you ever be?I'm not proud, I'm not proud, I'm not proud of me.So how could you, how could you, how could you ever be?I'm gonna work on waiting,If it's true you wanna say you love me every day.And I'm sorry (that it took meSo long to realize) you've always felt that way.Listen to it here





	Rattle

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song "Rattle" by Penny and Sparrow
> 
> _I'm no good at waiting,_  
On any kind of talk, at all, from you to me each day.  
And I'm sorry; I'm so sorry:  
I never can quite seem to pull my weight.  
I don't wanna rattle,  
And I've got no plans to let myself get tossed away.  
But this muscle, all this muscle,  
Could never lift a thing without you anyway.  
You have me, you have me, you have me only.  
When I keep, when I keep, when I keep listening.  
You wanna come and stay here,  
And depending on the day, I wanna let you in.  
But I know me, I know me,  
I'm scared I'll just wake up and want you gone again.  
I'm not proud, I'm not proud, I'm not proud of me.  
So how could you, how could you, how could you ever be?  
I'm not proud, I'm not proud, I'm not proud of me.  
So how could you, how could you, how could you ever be?  
I'm gonna work on waiting,  
If it's true you wanna say you love me every day.  
And I'm sorry (that it took me  
So long to realize) you've always felt that way.
> 
> [Listen to it here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eefTDGwHxzw)

“It makes no sense,” Robin was saying, watching him from her desk while he paced back and forth between her and the couch that served as their waiting area.

“No, it makes no sense to move out of your flat,” Cormoran lifted a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing a nonexistent ache. 

“I just…” her voice broke, almost breaking him.

“I know. But…”

“No.” He turned to find her on her feet, shoving her keys and notebook into her bag. “No, you really don’t.” She swung the bag over her shoulder as she snagged her green peacoat from the coat rack and he felt the air in his lungs freeze.

“Robin…Don’t go. Just…wait a minute.” But she was already opening the door.

She paused long enough to look back at him, her eyes awash with unshed tears, her nose starting to turn slightly red as it usually did when she cried. “I can’t Cormoran. I can’t do this with you anymore.”

And she was gone.

In the sixteen off and on years with Charlotte he’d learned that she lived for the drama, reveling in making him chase after her. She’d lived for those moments when he’d been desperate to mollify her, to pacify her need for a grand gesture. Charlotte had enjoyed nothing so much as seeing him beg her to stay.

Charlotte’s brand of love was all he was used to.

Robin was the complete antithesis. He knew she wasn’t waiting at the foot of the stairs for him to dash down and sweep her into his arms, begging her to forgive him and go on as before.

Robin abhorred drama and valued honesty, which is why he’d been upfront with her, but this time his honesty had hurt her.

He remained where he’d been as he’d watched her close the door softly behind her.

Had she just left him?

Would she come back?

Was this the end?

Had he ruined everything?

“FUCK!” He dropped to the couch and tunneled his fingers through hair he’d already raked into complete disorder. “Stupid fucking fuck!”

In the four years they’d been together, boss and assistant, partners and friends and now lovers, he’d tried to never take her for granted. Her steady presence beside him had become essential to him within weeks of working together. Her good sense and aptitude for the job had been curiously interesting at first. Her insights and intuitiveness had become exciting. She’d become his best sounding board, entirely willing to listen quietly while he worked through a theory and then bouncing theories or details he’d missed or neglected back at him. He’d done the same for her on the cases she’d begun to take on after being promoted to Junior Partner.

By the time she’d discovered Matthew’s infidelity she’d also become entrancing, with her golden red hair and generous figure. She’d always been incredibly alluring and sexy. And after the rings had been removed, and the divorce proceedings started, he’d begun to allow himself to hope.

They’d grown closer and closer over the last year to the point that it just seemed inevitable that they were supposed to _be_ together.

As they’d argued this evening she’d accused him of forcing her to make all the moves in the relationship and though he’d wanted to, he’d been unable to deny it.

Their first kiss had been initiated by her one morning, four months ago, after she’d practically danced through the door, handed him a coffee and then dropped a sheaf of papers on his desk and proclaimed, “You can officially call me Ellacott again!” Her smile beaming sunlight through the gloom of his office. He’d glanced down to see her _decree absolute_ and surged to his feet to catch her as she launched herself at him for a celebratory hug.

That hug had been tight and warm, her body pressing into his, her arms around his neck. “Congratulations,” he’d rumbled next to her ear, his senses filled with the scent of her, the feel of her in his arms. He’d felt her cheek pressing against his and been unable to resist rubbing his stubble against her softness.

She’d pulled slightly back, taking in his face with her blue grey eyes still sparkling with joy and laughter, and slid a hand into the curls at the base of his head, raised herself on her toes and pressed her lips to his cheek. “Hmmm. Not good enough,” she’d whispered before using both hands to tug his head down to meet her full lips. She’d lingered for only a moment, her lips rubbing against his softly, before dropping back down from her toes and quietly asking, “That OK?”

He’d been unable to say anything other than, “Uh huh,” before snatching her back against him and devouring her mouth.

A week later, they’d been leaving The Tottenham after having a couple celebratory drinks with Wardle and Vanessa and she’d slid her small hand into his massive one and hugged his arm against her, tiptoeing up to his ear to whisper, “Aren’t you going to ask me back to your place?” He’d chuckled, but not responded, unsure of how to proceed.

He’d spent that first week kissing her, learning the flavors of her mouth after she’d had tea, or finished nibbling a KitKat, at every opportunity, but knowing her history he’d forced himself to keep it to nothing more than that, telling himself she’d let him know when she was ready.

“Unless you’d rather come to mine, that is,” she’d teased him further, but he’d sensed a slight hesitation from her, as though she was unsure of herself, unsure of him, and he’d answered, “Yours is much better than mine. Mine’s a mess,” then bent to nuzzle her neck before asking with a smile, “That OK?”

She’d grinned and gripped his arm tighter and tugged him toward the nearest Underground station. He’d spent that evening absorbed in the feel, scent and sight of her pale skin beneath his hands and lips. He’d fallen asleep that night with his head resting on her chest, her hands stroking his curls, and her heart beating in his ear.

But, he’d been careful to maintain a distance between them. He’d stuck to his rule of never staying over at her flat for more than one night at a time and he’d never allowed her to stay at his any longer either.

He’d thought things were going well. He’d thought she was happy as things were.

He’d arrived back at the office from surveilling the wife of a BBC news anchor and found Robin near tears as she’d been staring at her computer screen. Concerned he’d asked, “Is everything OK?” as he’d hung up his coat. As he’d rounded the desk, he’d seen that her bank account was pulled up on the screen.

“The repair bill for the Land Rover was much higher than I’d anticipated and…” She’d trailed off and shrugged a defeated shrug.

He’d bent down and kissed the top of her head, then swiped a tear away with his thumb, “Listen, just take it out of the business. Goodness knows you use it for work enough. We’ll write it off.”

“Sure. I suppose we could.” But her tone had not lightened. Rather, she’d sounded even more upset.

“Everything else OK?” he’d asked tentatively.

“Not really. No.” She’d stood and walked to the kitchenette, pulled down two mugs and gone through the familiar motions of making their tea.

“OK. Is it something I can help with?” Fear had begun gnawing at his stomach. He’d felt as though he’d been going down a flight of stairs and missed a step.

Having finished readying their mugs she’d turned around and asked quietly, “What do you want from me?”

She’d asked him this question once before, before Matthew had broken her heart and almost her spirit, before Donald Laing had sliced her arm open and attempted to murder her, before she’d looked down the barrel of a gun held by a narcissistic asshole.

He’d been as nonplussed then as he was now.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what. Do. You. Want. From. Me?”

“Have I done something wrong?” He’d asked, confused and shaken.

“Have I?” she’d parried quietly, her hands twisting together at her waist.

“God no! Absolutely not.” She was perfection personified.

“Then why don’t you love me?”

He’d not been ready for this. He’d not thought _she_ was ready for this. He loved her. Of course, he loved her. But he’d not thought she’d want to hear it from him. Not yet. Not this soon.

“Why do you think I don’t love you? Robin…I’m…What?” He stumbled over his words, trying to make sense of what was happening.

“You’ve never told me.” She’d blurted before rushing on, “You’ve never let me stay with you more than one night and you’ve never stayed with me any longer, even though I know your schedule and I know you don’t have to be anywhere.” She sighed heavily then took another deep breath, “And I love you…God, I love you so much, but you never say a word.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, keeping her gaze on the floor.

“You love me?” He rasped, completely shocked and astounded to hear those words from her.

“Of course I love you.” Her eyes met his now, anger and frustration kindling in them.

“You never said.”

“Well neither did you. And I was tired of always going first.”

“Always going first? What’s that mean?”

“I’ve always been the one to make the first move Cormoran. I kissed you first. I asked you back to my flat first. I offered you space in my closet and dresser and a place to keep a toothbrush.” Her eyebrows had lowered over those smoky eyes as she’d walked past him carrying her mug of tea back to her desk, leaving his on the counter. “Every single ‘first’ in our relationship has been initiated by me.”

Nodding, he’d acknowledged this. “OK…Yeah…OK. I can see that…But still…You never said.”

“I didn’t want to. Don’t you know how scary that is? How could I possibly compare with Charlotte? With Elin? With Lorelei? I’m…” She choked on a sob.

“You’re nothing like them Robin! You’re absolutely nothing like them.” He was desperate to make her understand, but it felt like all he was doing was making it worse. None of the words were coming out right.

“God…I know…” she’d almost wailed as she’d pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. “You won’t even stay with me for more than one night. Much less move in with me.”

“You want to move in with me?” Even he’d heard the panic in his voice. He’d barely begun to give any thought to them moving in together. He’d been entirely wrongfooted.

“It makes so much more sense Cormoran. Don’t you see? I love you so much and all I want to do is be with you. But you’ll barely stay a night with me. Is it me? Is it something I did?” She’d sounded so sad and hopeless. “It makes no sense.”

“It just doesn’t make sense to move out of your flat,” he’d begun, intending to explain, but she’d started gathering her things.

And…within minutes she’d been gone.

He had no idea if she was gone forever.

What he did know is that he was completely and utterly rattled.

She’d said she loved him. How could he have missed that?

When he’d left Charlotte, he’d thought he was done with women. He’d never planned to love anyone ever again.

But there she’d been, on the other side of the door as he’d dashed after Charlotte. Preventing him from repeating the cycle of insanity Charlotte had always kept revolving. She’d unwittingly blocked his way, almost falling to her death down the stairs as he’d bumped into her. He’d dragged her back from the fall thinking she was a potential client only to find she’d been sent mistakenly by the temping agency he occasionally used. Guilt for almost killing her had prompted him to keep her for the week she’d been promised but within hours she’d begun showing her aptitude for investigation.

He’d kept her on for a further week, once his investigation into the Landry case had gotten underway and her insights and research skills had been instrumental in helping him close the case. He’d been unable to let her go after that and had hired her on a permanent basis as his assistant.

And Robin had stayed, beside him, despite two attempts on her life in the course of their investigations and the demise of her own relationship.

Of course, he loved her, but he was scared as well.

He was so terrified that she didn’t really love him, that she’d wake up one day and not want to be with him anymore.

He knew he must be as unlovable as Charlotte had always accused. Quiet and uncommunicative. Emotionally stunted. Cold.

He couldn’t see how anyone could love him, be proud of him, want to make a life with him. Especially not sunny, happy, empathetic Robin. No matter how much he loved her.

There were days when he was so terrified of the nearly overwhelming amount of love he had for her that he had to escape her because he just _knew_ that if he stayed with her for a moment longer he’d beg her to move in with him so that he could smell her perfume all the time, see her glowing in his kitchen while they made tea together, hold her every night as he fell asleep with her heart beating steadily in his ear.

He’d never been this consumed with love.

Love with Charlotte had been a bonfire.

This was a steady flame in a hearth. Warm, bright, cosy. Enduring.

However tempting it was, he knew he couldn’t ask her to move in with him. He was difficult to live with. For the short amount of time he’d lived with Charlotte, she’d told him constantly he was too moody. She’d hated his dislike of social gatherings and had started numerous rows with him when he’d chosen to work at building his agency rather than party with her set.

What if Robin felt the same way? He didn’t think he could bear to hear her tell him he was terrible to live with. That he was boring and stuffy and a stick in the mud.

So, it was safer to not ask.

Safer to not risk it.

Safer to keep her at a small distance.

Confine the flame. Bank it. Keep it burning, but controlled.

But he found, now that she’d confronted him, that he didn’t want that distance anymore.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, dialed Robin and prayed she’d answer.

“I’m so sorry.”

He looked up to find her standing in the doorway, face filled with guilt and sadness and he bolted to his feet and gathered her against his chest.

“God, me too.” He murmured into her hair. “I’m so sorry.”

He tugged her hair gently to tilt her face toward his and cupped her cheeks in his hands. “I love you. So much.” He punctuated it with a quick kiss. “That OK?”

She chuckled wetly, “Yeah.”

“Good,” and he pulled her back against him.

“But I’m still sorry,” her voice was muffled against his chest. But her hands were clutching the back of his shirt.

“I was so mean. And I’m so sorry. I was just scared and worried and frustrated. I should have talked to you before now instead of letting my insecurities build up.” She pulled away briefly to wipe her eyes and looked up at him. “I didn’t mean to pick a fight. Matthew just always made everything seem like it was my fault. Like I was always in the wrong, so I just assumed…” she trailed off.

“I understand.” He tugged her over to the couch and down onto his lap. “But you were right. I’ve been an ass. A complete tosser.”

“No…you’ve been so lovely,” she protested.

“I’ve been an idiot. Listen,” he smoothed her hair away from her face and pulled a tissue from his pocket for her. “When I left Charlotte, I’d promised myself that I wasn’t going to fall in love again. And I was pretty good at it.” He smiled wryly at her muffled snort.

“But then there was you and I tried so hard to keep my feelings for you professional.” He met her eyes, “But you made it impossible. You have me so wrapped around your finger. And I was so scared of that. Because Charlotte did as well.” She opened her mouth as if to speak, but he covered her lips with his fingertips. “Wait. Please.”

She nodded.

“Charlotte knew I was wrapped around her finger and she used it against me, until I slowly unwrapped myself. With your unwitting help.”

Her eyes flew to his, her brows lowered in confusion.

“The day we met. I almost knocked you down the stairs when I tried to run after her. But you stopped me. I almost killed you and you saved me.”

He closed his eyes as she kissed the thumb still resting on her lip. “But then, as I got to know you, I started falling and I tried so hard to keep it from happening. You were with Cuntliffe and it looked like you were staying with him and…well. Clearly, I wasn’t successful.

“Honestly I’ve been scared to death that I’m not going to be enough for you. You’re so young and you don’t need an old fat fuck like me weighing you down.”

Anger lit her eyes and he pressed his thumb to her lips again, grinning when she opened her mouth and bit it while narrowing her eyes at him.

“I’ve loved you for ages Robin, but I’ve got so much baggage and I was terrified that you’d run, screaming, if I let you close enough to see it or feel it.” He rested his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not Charlotte, Cormoran. I’m not any of those women.”

“I know that…Any more than I’m Matthew…” he started, but found his mouth covered by her hand.

“You had your turn.” She leaned forward and kissed his nose, rubbed the tip of hers against his, then continued, “I just want to be with you. I love waking up next to you and falling asleep with you laying on me.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled behind her hand.

“Don’t be. It’s comforting.” He reached up and took the hand covering his mouth in his, stroking her fingers and palm as she continued, “I love making love to you and working with you and seeing you sleepy or full of energy while we work a case. I love making your tea and I love when you make mine. I just really love you and I hate being apart from you.” She settled her head on his shoulder and slid her other hand into the curls at the back of his head.

“I’m sorry about tonight. I’d just paid that repair bill and, well…you know that money’s been tight since the _decree absolute_ came through and I had the thought that it would be so much simpler, for both of us, if we only had one rent payment, one utility payment, one water payment…and since your flat is the less expensive one, it made sense to offer to let go of mine.” She chuckled. “Especially since we spend most of our time here anyway. But if you’d prefer I didn’t move in, I don’t want to force you…I just want to stay with you.”

He dropped a kiss into the palm of the hand he was holding and met her eyes. “Robin, I’d love it if you’d move in with me.” He leaned his head against hers. “But, I can’t promise I’ll always be a blast to live with. I’m a bit moody sometimes and I can occasionally be a right bastard. But you’ve put up with me this long and seen me at many of my worsts. I don’t think there’ll be many surprises.” He nudged her head with his shoulder to get her to sit up and look at him. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

She smiled, “Absolutely,” then pressed her mouth to his as if to seal the deal. “That OK?”

“When can you move in?” he asked between kisses.

“Is tonight too soon?”

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been experiencing a massive case of writers block. I keep having all these great ideas but then I sit down to write them and it all comes out reading like crap.  
At least crap to me.  
So I delete and try to not get frustrated and go do something else.  
Today I just said “Screw it!” And forced this out.  
I hope it doesn’t read as though it was forced. I hope it’s up to my usual. But I can’t be objective right now.  
Give me your criticism and feedback. I need it.  
Hopefully this will break the block and I’ll get some of my really great ideas out.


End file.
